Small Town Christmas (Blue Harbor #4) - Olivia Miles Page 0,34

coming. “Actually, I never get a tree of my own. I figure I have the trees downstairs and the one at my family’s house. That always felt like my tree.”

Until Candy took charge of decorating it, she thought.

“Maybe it’s a good idea to have a tree of your own. Something separate from your shop?” Phil pointed out.

She winced. “I guess I don’t see the point…”

“Wait a minute.” Phil shifted on the couch until he was leaning toward her, his look stern. “You two gave me a hard time about not having a tree.”

“But you have Georgie,” Cora laughed. “I guess I feel like a tree is something to decorate together. A tradition worth sharing.”

Phil met her gaze, all amusement gone from his eyes as their gazes locked. Cora felt her breath catch, and for a moment, even the sounds of the carols couldn’t compete with the beating of her heart.

“I couldn’t agree more,” he said softly.

Cora pulled in a sigh and took a sip of wine to fight the flutter in her stomach. The embers in the fireplace were dying down and Cora didn’t need to look at the clock to know that it was getting late. Georgie’s yawns were telling enough.

“Well, I should probably get going,” she said, setting her wine glass on an end table.

“I hope the roads have been cleared,” Phil said.

“Oh, I walked,” Cora replied.

“Walked? In this temperature?” Phil looked downright horrified.

“I’m sure you do a lot of walking in the city,” she pointed out.

“Well, yes,” Phil admitted, frowning. “But in the city, everything is lit up.”

Cora gave a little smile. “I have the light of the moon. And when it reflects off the snow, it’s more than bright enough. Besides, I love walking in the snow at this time of year. It feels…magical.” She took her coat from the rack and shrugged into it.

“I have a feeling that I’m not going to talk you into letting me drive you home.” Phil raised an eyebrow.

“You’re not,” Cora said. She jutted her chin to the living room. “Besides, it looks like someone is almost asleep. She’ll need to save some energy for all that gingerbread decorating tomorrow.”

“I have a feeling that Georgie is going to insist on going.” Phil glanced over his shoulder where Georgie was now curling up with a blanket on the couch, clearly worn out from the excitement of the day.

“Oh, she can’t miss it,” Cora said firmly. “Much too special.”

“Good night then,” he said, seeming to hesitate.

Cora felt her stomach flutter as she reached for the doorknob. She could have stayed all night, and maybe he wanted her to. But it was time to go. For now.

*

Phil watched out the window as Cora disappeared into the nightfall. He would have felt a lot better if she’d let him drive her home, and he still had half a mind to tuck Georgie into the backseat of his car and do just that.

Ironic, he supposed, that he was so determined to protect the one woman he was about to hurt.

Grimacing against the bitterness that formed in his mouth, he walked back into the kitchen and rinsed the wine glasses, washing away the reminder of the nicest evening he’d spent in a while, and not just because it had been a long time since he’d seen Georgie so happy. Cora was a breath of fresh air—not like any of the other women that he’d dated since his divorce. She didn’t seem to care what kind of car he drove or how fat his bank account was or where they might have dinner. She cared about…traditions, he thought, as he circled back into the living room and admired the fully decorated tree.

It was just like the one his grandmother put up that one Christmas he’d spent here—well, minus the pink ornaments. Still, it stood in the same corner of the living room, lighting up the space with the same feeling of wonder he’d felt all those years ago, when he was the same age as Georgie was now. They’d baked cookies, and decorated, and his grandfather had even pulled his old guitar out of the attic and attempted a few carols. It wasn’t the fanciest Christmas he’d ever had, but it was definitely the most special.

And it was the only one.

This could be a special Christmas for Georgie, though. One last memory to hold onto—of this house, of the one time in his childhood when the world felt full of something other than things. Christmas in Blue